


Societal Influence: Optimus

by TrashMachine



Series: SIAU [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Human AU, Humanformers, optimus isnt the best dad in the world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-04-16 13:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14166252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashMachine/pseuds/TrashMachine
Summary: Optimus Prime, Orion Pax, is a hard working man, high in esteem of the Autobot forces that govern Cybertron. He runs the headquarters, and is the Prime of Tarn, one of five sections of Cybertron. His brother is the Magnus of Iacon, and his wife is Elita One, leader of the forces against Quintessa.He got everything he dreamed of. So why are ghosts from his past still haunting him?(2/7 in this Series. Regular updates suck. who knows when you're getting this)





	1. Day 9, 1st Month of Winter, 2007 (part 1)

With all the nonsense currently happening in the world, Optimus wouldn’t have been surprised if everything turned out to be a weird fever dream; the impossible dealer in Iacon; Megatron, a rich and famous politician in the system he despised; the supposed Quintesson activity spotted by scouts on the northern border, and Elita’s subsequent deployment. Everything seemed to gather into a confusing, nonsensical pile.

Recently they’d had to take a young woman into custody, over not having an Insignia to enter Iacon city. Partly, he understood her situation. It was a difficult application in order to get an Autobot insignia. Especially when you had no family to claim your legal existence, and she’d needed to make a delivery. Nothing illegal. Just letters. She was just a postlady. He really didn’t understand why certain jobs didn’t came with the ability to have a temporary Insignia.

Rodimus had been avoiding him again too. Optimus didn’t understand where he’d gone wrong with that kid- he’d been acting so strange ever since he had gotten into school. The academy had made things worse, but since he had first gone Rod acted unusually. His teachers were constantly calling home, and he seemingly always became sick during the day, sometimes they told tales of bullies but Rod never said a word. Elita used to say that it took a town to raise a child, but now she said that Rodimus needed a country.

His teachers were constantly calling home, sometimes telling tales of bullies that Rod never spoke a word of, or mentioning how he seemingly always became sick during the day.

Optimus signed off on an allocation of weaponry to troops in response to recent Decepticon activity, and began reading the next report. Wrecker activity reports. Talking of a powerful woman being taken into custody, currently held in the prison cells in the HQ, and reports of a Decepticon team being broken up- the leader banished to the Red Sea. He’d die in the desert alone. That was fine, but he’d have to let Maximus Prime know- No, Fort Max, he corrected himself. Max wasn’t a fan of the political terms, and never had been. Even when Optimus had been Orion- a recruit in a very competitive world.

He continued his work, beginning to type out a letter as there was a knock on his office door. “Come in.”

He looked up as it opened to see Magnus, and he gave a bitter smile. “Ah, Magnus, here to deliver my orders from the Chairman?”

Magnus shook his head, approaching the desk. “No, nothing serious. Just a coffee and a general question for the Holder of the Matrix of Leadership.”

“You are a Primus sent gift Minnie. Is the question from Starsaber again?”

Magnus looked like he was ready to lose his mind, placing the coffee down with a little more force than necessary. “Honestly, if that man thinks corruption is the only key to being in a position of power then he will never have his hands on the Matrix. And don’t call me Minnie.”

Optimus snorted, waving him off. “If I can’t call my own brother by his name, who can?”

“My husband.”

Optimus shot him a playfully angry look, and Magnus gave a single laugh in return. “So what do you want your answer to be?”

He leant back in his chair, putting down the letter for the moment as he thought. “Something politically upstanding. Like a speech, but more personal. But no actual real advice, more like a filler answer until you think it’s more appropriate to tell them.”

Magnus nodded. “Understandable. Do you want to know the question?”

“Oh, go on.”

“Starsaber asks if you know of political honesty, and if you are able to utilise it to your own desires.”

“Oh Primus, did he really send you out here for a spite question?” Optimus groaned, returning to his letter. “Honestly, he asks that once a season. I’m so sick of hearing it. He knows how I got my position, it has nothing to do with other people .”

Magnus leaned over the desk, and winced at the letter. “Maximus?”

Optimus laughed weakly. “Are you still mad that he calls you Minimus?”

The huff was response enough, and Optimus waved his brother off, signing the letter and folding it into an envelope. He happily took the still warm coffee, sipping from the cup as he stared up from his chair. “You’re still here?”

“Jazz tells me his group spotted Rodimus in Upper District Helex with a suspected Decepticon.”

Optimus spat the coffee back into the cup, coughing on the rest. “He  _ what _ ?”

Magnus sighed, nodding slowly, yet certainly. “Yes, I’m afraid so. Rodimus has been pushing his luck for a while now, and now he has crossed the line. I’m honestly done sure how to deal with this information myself.”

Optimus groaned. While Magnus may have been oddly melodramatic, he was right. Affiliation with suspected Decepticons was a one way ticket to a destroyed reputation. Not just for Rodimus, but for Optimus, Elita, perhaps even Magnus and Jazz. It could cause an uproar, and they could all lose their jobs. 

“Do we know their name at least?”

“His name is Deadlock.”

“Oh my Primus.” He slammed a fist down onto his desk, and covered his face with his other hand. Of all the people, of all the  _ Decepticons -- _ did it honestly have to be Deadlock?

Optimus knew three things about that man: that he was an aggressive drug addict, confirmed Decepticon, and a well known murderer. Not only should he be in jail, but in Optimus’ opinion, he should be executed. But unfortunate circumstance lead to the inability of an arrest, and by extension, inability of jail time. Excuse after excuse by defendant after defendant. Childhood trauma, recent abuse, emotional issues, mental disorders. 

Optimus thought it was a load of shit. Regardless of what the man experienced, he was still guilty, and every verdict of ‘innocent by allocation of blame’ made him even more furious. Deadlock was a murderer, pure and simple, and his association with his son was just a thinly veiled threat.

“I wish I could say it could be worse,” Magnus interrupted Optimus’ thoughts. “But honestly, I’m not sure how it could be.”

Optimus sighed shaking his head. “He could be with Starscream again.”

“He is.”

The cup crashed against the floor. The remainder of its contents spilt over the blue carpet, as Optimus hand shook from the force that had slapped it off the table. Magnus seemed surprised at the the action, but merely went to clear it up.

“Are you serious?!”

“I’m afraid so. And he was spotted at one of those illegal drag races.”

“Fuck!”

Magnus glared. “Language, Orion.”

Optimus huffed in response, standing up from his desk to help his brother clean up his mess. “Sorry, just, for crying out loud. Rodimus, he’s… by the Thirteen, I wish he’d take more after… who does he even take after?”

“Dion.”

Optimus froze, moments from his past shooting through his brain seconds before he reburied them. “I wish he didn’t. Anyone else, you know? Literally anyone else.”

They cleared away the broken pieces of the cup into the bin, and Magnus sighed. “He had so many people in his family to be like, and he ended up like none of them. I imagine you must feel like Starsaber in this situation.”

“At least Sunstreaker and Sideswipe don’t talk to Decepticons!” Optimus snapped back, running a hand through his hair. “That kid is giving me greys!”

Magnus raised an eyebrow. “You’re forty nine.”

“And our father went grey at seventy four! It’s not a genetic thing- you’re older and you have less than I have!”

Magnus folded his arms. “So what do you plan on doing?”

“I don’t know,” Optimus covered his face with his hands, rubbing his eyes. “Nothing I say seems to get through to him. Maybe I should be harsher? Jazz is good with kids, what would he do?”

Magnus shrugged. “We’ve never dealt with a kid like Rodimus.”

A moment of silence passed, and Optimus slumped back in his chair. He stared at the papers on his desk as if they could give some kind of answer. Until eventually he gave up searching for answers in nothing, and reached for his phone. “How soon can Jazz get here?”

“Uh… maybe half an hour, why?”

Optimus clicked send on the message he just typed, narrowing his stare as he waited for a response. “I’ve asked Rodimus if he’s able to come down to the station- I want to ask him some questions.”


	2. Day 9, 1st Month of Winter, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation from where Magnus fucked up in Rod's half.

As soon as Rodimus slammed the door behind him Optimus turned to his brother, betrayed. “Minimus!” Optimus frowned. “Why did you pressure him like that?”

Rodimus had been defensive, keeping his secrets, being difficult, Optimus knew that, but it only made Optimus more worried than irritated.He was beginning to think this was more serious than he first thought. Rodimus could be in danger.

Magnus shrugged, a vaguely guilty look on his face. “I assumed under pressure he would confess, and not cut off..”

Jazz sighed, sympathetically patting his husband on the back. “Roddie… is different to what we’re used to. The twins don’t lie, and Bumbles is... Well, he’s quite easy to persuade. Rodimus is a lot more complicated than our kids.”

Optimus slumped against the wall, sliding down onto the floor. “What am I going to do? He’s getting cozy with that- that murderer! The Decepticons, they could really hurt him, he’s so young, he doesn’t know what they can do!”

Jazz raised an eyebrow, sitting in the desk. “Roddie is turning nineteen soon, isn’t he?”

“That’s still young!” Optimus barked.

Magnus huffed in response, and Optimus was sure; if Magnus wasn’t so embarrassed he would have stood between Jazz and him. 

Optimus, folded his arms over his chest as if he had, however. “It is young. He doesn’t think! Imagine if he actually joined the Decepticons! The uproar, it could ruin all our careers!”

Jazz made a motion, evidently feeling rather helpless. “Look,I know you’re not wrong, and I totally get it, but shouldn’t we be worrying more about Rod?”

Magnus shrugged. “If he makes a poor decision and has to face the consequences, he’ll have to face the consequences. What matters is when it affects others.”

Optimus nodded, loosening his arms. Magnus was right, if only Jazz would completely agree with him. .

“Still,” Jazz began, although Optimus wasn’t particularly in the mood to listen to a devil’s advocate. “It could be dangerous for him. What if they’re using him to get to us?”

Optimus and Ultra Magnus perked up at Jazz’s point, then stared at one another as they considered it. The possibility was real. Optimus frowned, and ran his hand down his face, bashing his head back. “What am I going to do with him? He’s going to get himself killed!”

He’d realised it when he had talked with Jazz earlier. Rod was avoiding having Optimus know about his life. He had been for a while now, avoiding having him talk to his teachers, avoiding telling him about his life, lying about going places. Optimus had no idea about Rodimus’ life. And Rodimus was trying to keep it that way.

Jazz leaned against Optimus’ desk, shrugging nonchalantly. “Well you’re not dead.”

He looked up at Jazz, confused. “What?”

Jazz snorted. “Oh come on, you were doing the same thing with Megatron when you were his age, doing dangerous stuff as well, like opposing empurata, going to rallies… and if you didn’t go down to the gladiator rings at least once I’ll eat my entire leg.”

“That was different!” Optimus felt his ears burn, particularly when Magnus gave him a disbelieving look. “Megatron- he hadn’t killed anyone yet!”

Jazz frowned. “They said it wasn’t him.”

“They proved it was his wife!” Optimus snarled, glaring down at the blue carpet of his office, grasping the roots of his hair. “Like he wouldn’t know about what she did.”

Magnus sighed, kneeling down in front of him. Distantly, and unwelcomely, it reminded him of when they were young, Optimus hiding in his jumpers, sniffling, hiding the black eye and swollen cheek. 

Optimus wasn’t upset. He wasn’t.

“Orion,” Magnus spoke with a rare softness he tended not to use now they were adults, and it stung like salt in the wound. “Listen, if this is about Dion…”

“It’s not about Dion!”

He’d gotten over that. He was over Dion. He was over those ginger curls, the bright blue eyes, the dusting of freckles, the way his face glowed with life, with love. He was over Dion and his stupid snorts when he laughed, he was over the way he put flowers in peoples hair. He was over how Rodimus looked like him reincarnated. He was over it. It’d been years. 

Magnus wordlessly offered him some tissues, and Optimus snatched them to wipe away his tears.

“It’s not about Dion,” he repeated, perhaps less forcefully than before. “This is about Rodimus. About now, not the dead.”

Both of them watched him disbelievingly as he walked back to his desk, putting his hands on the wood, staring down at it as if it would give him answers. 

“If you two can’t help,” He spoke suddenly, with slow dawning realisation. This wasn’t going anywhere. “Then I’ll ask someone else.”

Silence hung in the air like a damned man. He turned around and saw Jazz looking at him rather worriedly. He looked to Magnus for reassurance, and at the side glance he was given, Jazz spoke.

“Optimus… look, about Rodimus, he’s defensive, he’s scared, and… look, I’ve worked with enough people to know that that kind of behavior doesn’t just come out of nowhere. So, like, can you be honest with me for a sec? Just be a straight shooter, no beating around the bush.”

“Get to the point Jazz.”

Jazz took a deep breath, then grit his teeth together. “What… did you do?”

Optimus bristled at the insinuation. Jazz and Ultra Magnus saw it and almost seemed to duck away from him as he straightened his back, glaring down at the two of them, despite Magnus being taller than him. The accusation hurt. It burned. The insult rushed heat through his veins and his face contorted into an ugly rage as he struggled to keep his cool. He hadn’t done anything untoward towards his son, and the fact that Jazz and Magnus- his own brother -suspected he had, made him feel sick.

“I did my job,” He walked closer to the two of them, to which they backed away. “And as his father, I will continue to do my job.”

“Optimus, look, I’m sorry-”

“Of protecting him.” He continued, as if Jazz hadn’t spoken, striding towards the door to his office. “And if I have to hunt down every Decepticon that spoke to him, so be it. Even if I have to incarcerate, or kill them, scatter them like the filthy rats they really are, without their precious ‘family’ to lead and protect them.”

He stood at the door, looking over his shoulder and folding his hands behind his back. “Do you have any other questions?”

Jazz and Magnus looked to one another nervously, obviously wanting to say something, but unsure what. Optimus didn’t plan to let them figure it out.

“I didn’t think so.”

He stepped out, with a final glare, slamming the door behind him. He leaned his back against the door, breath shuddering as he closed his eyes. He was so tired. This whole Rodimus situation was stressing him out. He needed normalcy, something to take his mind off this whole mess.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw Prowl heading towards him, who jolted when he saw Optimus out of his office.

“Oh,” he cleared his throat. “Is your meeting with Jazz and Magnus over? I have something for you to look at.”

Optimus jumped at the distraction and approached, perhaps a little faster than he usually would. “What is it?”

“Some new recruits from Iacon have been requested placement here. The Council are ensuring you have the opportunity and space required for four more members of the team?”

Optimus chuckled. “Wouldn’t you know better than me? What are the requested fields?”

Prowl lifted the papers, eyes scanning quickly for the answer, Optimus knew Prowl already had it but as he was Prime it was always his signature required on the paperwork. It was obscenely tedious. 

“Forensics, Firearms and Weaponry, Intelligence, and Command and Dispatch.”

Optimus tilted his head. “Who do we have in those divisions currently?”

Prowl hissed through his teeth, eyes moving up as he attempted to recall off the top of his head. “In Forensics we currently have Perceptor. Nightbeat and Depth Charge in Intelligence, Firearms has Ironhide, Hoist, Hound and Trailbreaker, and Blaster in Command and Dispatch.” Prowl winced, as if in pain. “Forensics is low in staff, as is Intelligence. ”

Optimus nodded, hoping to have this drag on a bit. “And the others?”

“Firearms has plenty but as always we are woefully understaffed and any additions are helpful.”

“Understood,” Optimus nodded. “I’ll sign off on our availability. When do you reckon they’ll come back to us with their files?”

Prowl thought for a moment, answering hesitantly. “I’d give it until the start of the second month of Spring. So about… fifteen days maximum?”

He nodded again. “Perfect. Anything else you wanted to chase me up on?”

“Yes I…” Prowl trailed off, looking behind Optimus as the colour suddenly drained out of his face. When Optimus looked, nothing was there. When he turned back, Prowl seemed visibly unnerved. Unsure, Optimus went to place his hand on Prowl’s shoulder, but he jumped back, clearing his throat.

“Nevermind. It’s a question better off brought up with Kup. Wrecker business.” He smiled tartly, turning on his heel sharply, leaving Optimus confused behind him.

He stood there, outside his office door, staring after the retreating form, papers still in his hands. Signing them would take no time at all. Prowl would have handed him the pen he always kept and taken them back. He always did. 

This was more confusion. More things that didn’t make sense, more people keeping secrets.

Optimus growled under his breath. More things he didn’t need.


	3. Day 5, 2nd Month of Winter, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We were so close...

It was dark outside the window. 

Optimus stared blankly out of it onto the street, as if Rodimus would suddenly appear. As if he would give him the answers to the questions that were plaguing him. As if all his problems would be solved in one single moment.

But he didn’t appear.

Rodimus had told him he was at Blurr’s. He couldn’t have used his car, since it was still in the garage, and Springer, who he had sent to keep an eye on Rodimus, told him that Blurr and Rodimus had walked out of the academy together after archery, and were again spotted at the train station together. They were certainly telling the truth, but something didn’t seem right.

Decepticon activity had been uncomfortably quiet the past few seasons. However the dealer in Iacon had yet to be caught, and with all the paperwork he had to fill out about warrants and witness statements and the like, his argument with Jazz and Magnus, and Rodimus’ situation, he wasn’t sure what to do.

Rodimus wasn’t at Blurr’s. Optimus was sure of it. But where was his proof? All he had was a bad feeling and an ongoing fear that his son would be corrupted by the Decepticons. To their defense, they had little to no way of contacting him with their corrupted ideals, but Rodimus’ wouldn’t share any details about his life.

Rodimus didn’t trust Optimus, and the feeling was mutual, Optimus didn’t even know what was happening at the Academy anymore.

But it shouldn’t have come to this, Optimus didn’t understand; Jazz and Magnus had such an easy time with their kids. Why was Rodimus so hard? What made him such a problem child compared to Bumblebee? Or the twins?

Was it Optimus?

It was a harsh conclusion to come to, he didn’t like thinking that, at the end of the day, he was just a shitty parent, that it was his own fault that Rodimus hated him. That he was the one who had pushed Rod away and not the other way around. 

It was a scary thought. 

The Decepticons would take him away if he let them. Optimus had no proof that Megatron was behind it all, but he knew it to be true . No one got as rich as Megatron was from hard work and determination. It was an unfair truth, and yes, people deserved better chances, but the fact that Megatron had come from nothing was absurd.

Megatron came from the old Quintesson subway stations in Helex that no one wanted to go near. He’d come raised from a group of children starving underground in ancient ruins. He’d come from a place where all the rest had died, knowing he would be unable to do something to save them.

He had helped Megatron out of it, after all.

Optimus had been naive as Rodimus, he had helped that monster rise to the position of power he was in now, and he was paying the price for it. Megatron had illegally ran the Decepticons behind the scenes and made a fortune on the back of his company. And now…

Optimus couldn’t let Rod fall into his hands. It would be the final nail in the coffin of their whole argument. He was right. Megatron was wrong, he always had been. Taking Rodimus to his side, was something Megatron wouldn’t hesitate to use against him. Like somehow Rodimus following him when he had been raised by Optimus proved Megatron right.

The less time Rodimus spent away from Optimus’ sight, the better. 

But it only ever seemed to make things worse. Rodimus was distant at best and isolated at worst. He rarely even talked to Ariel these days- his own mother. And if Rodimus couldn’t trust his parents, he could find himself in a very dangerous situation. He could already be in a dangerous situation, but Optimus hadn’t enough proof to know.

Maybe he should just be honest. Maybe he should admit to Rodimus all the dangers he was tempting, all the ways he could doom himself. Maybe he should tell him why, why he hated Megatron. What he’d done, what he’d said, what he’d done to innocent people and what he was likely to do. Maybe he should let Rod know, and wherever he went was his own choice.

Maybe Optimus shouldn’t be so hung up on his past.

Maybe Megatron wasn’t always at fault, and maybe Rodimus should make his own informed decisions. 

He sighed. He should tell Rodimus at least. The kid deserved to know. Bumblebee wasn’t keen on sharing details about his cousin, but Optimus knew Rodimus had been through the wringer lately. Maybe he’d been too hard on him. Rodimus might have been young, naive, and a little thoughtless, but he wasn’t stupid.

A car stopped outside. He heard the doors open and took a deep breath. Yes, he should tell Rod. Now was a good as time as any, if that was him as Optimus suspected.

He looked through the curtains, confirming the familiar red hair and nervous stance walking down the path to the front door, escorted by Megatron in his fancy suit and-

Wait.

Megatron!

Optimus saw red. The red of Megatron’s tie, the red of Dion’s blood, the red of Megatron’s eyes, of the autobot badge hanging proudly on his vest.

He felt the door slam under his hand, seething. He was focused on Megatron, and Megatron alone. The surprised look on his face, the hand on his son’s shoulder. It wasn’t real, it was never real, and Optimus should have nipped his and Megatrons friendship in the bud before it had even started.

“Megatron?!” Optimus bellowed. “What are you doing here with- with my son?”


	4. Day 5, 2nd Month of Winter, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh no

Rodimus was being quieter than usual.

Rodimus was quiet inside his room, and Optimus felt terrible.

He groaned, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyelids. How could he have been so blind to his sons feelings? How could he have ignored his problems for so long? How could he have been so inattentive?

He was a terrible dad.

The truth had been staring Optimus in the face the whole time, hovering just out of the reach of his foolish ways. He had turned a blind eye to Rodimus’ struggles, assuming it to be lack of effort, of care to his work and consequences. He isolated his son from someone who was helping him purely out of sheer bitterness towards Megatron, more than once. Rodimus had been trying so hard and Optimus had only pushed him over the edge.

He had isolated Rodimus, to the point where he hadn’t even felt able to talk to him, to anyone. His father, his mother, what with his connection to Optimus, not even Bumblebee. Rodimus had no friends, no one to turn to, and an obscene amount of stress on his shoulders from expectations that never should have been put there.

It was all his fault.

It had always been his fault and he’d been too wrapped up in his illusions to see it. He’d hurt Rodimus, his own son, by being distant and inattentive. By ignoring his problems until it was almost too late... at least, he hoped it was almost too late.

Rodimus was being a lot quieter than usual.

How could Optimus fix this? He had no idea. Not even Jazz would know what to do. He didn’t have to be any closer to Lower District Tarn to see the dark plumes of smoke from the mountain. Elita had her hands full with Quintesson forces, he couldn't possibly ask for her to come back and help.

Maybe it was time for Optimus to consider his own parenting rather than asking others to parent Rodimus son for him, and start acting like a father. Let Rodimus make his own mistakes and decisions and just let him grow on his own rather than acting like a puppeteer. Even if that meant Optimus acknowledging similarities between Rod and…

Rodimus wasn’t going to get kidnapped by Megatron, no matter how much his thoughts insisted he would. Even if Megatron was leader of the Decepticons, Optimus knew him, Megatron wouldn’t be so careless, he knew he hadn’t been the one to kill Dion. Deep down, he’d always known it. But he had no one else to blame, and with Nightbird’s incarceration… 

Optimus shook his head. He didn’t want to think about his mistakes. Besides, now was about the present. About Rodimus. He had to make it up to Rodimus somehow. He had to tell him that he knew, he knew about Deadlock and he knew about Starscream and that he wasn’t going to stop him, even if he was going to tell him it was a bad idea. He had to tell him about Dion, not for an excuse but in hopes Rod would understand and forgive him. He had to tell him about Megatron, about their previous relationship, about how it fell apart. 

Optimus had to apologise. And he had to tell Rod that he was going to be better, he had to be better. Or else.

He loved his son, he honestly and earnestly did. And he felt guilt for what he had done, even if some part of him insisted his actions were justified. Optimus took in a deep breath, slowly releasing it as he stood from the dining room table. He considered apologising to Megatron, but disregarded it as a problem for later. Right now, this was about Rodimus. And he needed to hear it more.

Rodimus was quiet. Optimus must have really upset him.

He slowly walked up the stairs, hoping his actions wouldn’t panic his son more. The walk down the hall to Rodimus’ door felt like an eternity, and his heart hurt with guilt for every step. All too fast he found himself in front of the door. He stared. Then rapped twice..

“…Rodimus?” He tried, when there was no response. “I. I’m not angry at you, I’m not- I’m sorry.”

Still nothing. Optimus hoped he was listening, and waited at the painted door, (Rodimus loved to decorate, loved to paint, why hadn't he noticed it before?). 

“I’m sorry, Rodimus.” Optimus continued after the silence continued. “I haven’t. I haven’t been a good father to you. I haven’t been good at all. In fact I- I would say that I’ve been a terrible father more than anything.”

He breathed slowly, trying to figure out the most careful way to say what he desperately needed to. What Rod needed to hear. 

“I’m sorry I made you feel unloved and feel like it was your fault. It’s mine. All of it. I treated you like less than you were to me. I acted as if you were something to be ashamed of. I-I… I never wanted to hurt you. I’ve hurt you more than I can imagine, despite never wanting to do so. And I’m so, so sorry.”

His breath shuddered. His vision blurred. His fists shook at his sides where they sat white knuckled.

“I’ve done everything wrong. I’ve been over-protective to the degree of being controlling. I told you who you could and could not be with, and I acted as if your best wasn’t good enough. I acted as if I wasn’t proud of you, and I told you to try harder even though you were at the end of your rope.”

He sniffed, then coughed, trying not to let his voice break. He turned, leaning his back against the wall.

“Roddie… Roddie I’m so sorry,” he whispered, hiding his face in his hands. “I never meant to hurt you but it’s all I’ve done. All I’ve ever done. I’ve made you think that I hate you. I’ve done irredeemable things to you and I am so, so sorry. I’ve made you think the worst of yourself, and I’ve made you hurt yourself. I’ve made you think of dying, even though it’s all I ever wanted to avoid. You are a child, but you’re my child, and I should have acted like it.”

Optimus’ head rose from his hands, and he leaned towards the door. His eyes closed, and he ignored the tears on his cheeks.

“I acted as if you were lazy when I never even thought to wonder why you were always so tired. I never questioned why you were always so sick, and I made you feel like I wanted you dead. Everything I’ve done is unforgivable. I-I thou- I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was cage you, trap you. I made you feel unsafe, and I made you feel worse by not even trying to understand.”

He swallowed. Hard. Then tried to calm himself, before talking again. “Roddie… Roddie I’ve made so many mistakes, but not a single one of them was you. I’m not perfect, I’ve never been perfect. Roddie, I-I cheated on your mother, I blamed Megatron for things he couldn’t possibly have done, I thought he would take it out on you, like I had to him. But I was wrong, and I was foolish. I’m sorry. Roddie, I’m so sorry.”

Optimus fell silent. The house was silent. Optimus finally calmed to register his surroundings. Not even a single sound from Rodimus inside his room, . A flash of concern ran through Optimus, he knocked on Rod’s door again.

“I love you Rodimus. I’m sorry. I want to help. Can I come in?”

Silence.

“Rodimus?”

Still nothing. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

“Rodimus, please, even if you’re mad, answer me? Just a small noise, anything will do, just so I know you’re ok.”

The silence stretched on. Optimus’ eyes widened. His heart pounded and he shot to his feet. It couldn’t be. Rodimus wouldn’t have. Would he?

Had he waited too long? 

He shook the doorknob as it refused to budge under his grip, and he knocked more frantically.

“Rodimus? Rodimus please answer me, are you alright?!”

Nothing. Terror seized Optimus’ heart and without a second thought he began bashing his shoulder into the door to break it down. He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have. Rod wouldn’t-

Visions flashed before his eyes. Fluffy red hair, freckles, bloodied lips, grey skin-

“Rodimus!”

The door finally shattered under his weight. His eyes searched the room frantically. It was trashed. Papers strewn, drawers ripped open and clothes scattered, the few trophies Rod owned and treasured lay broken on the floor.

**_“RODIMUS!”_ **

His hands ripped white sheets in their panic. Empty bed. Empty room. Empty bathroom. No blood no body but broken window and a sign of a struggle-

“No,” Optimus croaked, rushing over to the open window, looking out of it. “No no no NO!”

-blood on the wall on the grass he could smell the iron he saw it glisten in the small light the streets provided-

“NO NO NO!!!”

_-slippery muddy tracks leading from the window to tire marks on the road that he knew he’d heard over an hour ago but didn’t think about because he was so distracted-_

His hands fumbled through his shirt, almost crushing the numbers under his desperate grip.

_\- Dion’s corpse in the water - Dion’s funeral - Sentinel’s body hanging bloody from a streetlight carved words into his chest - ‘you are being deceived’ - he should have known -_

He should have known!

“Optimus?” Mangus’ voice came from the speakers, surprised. “You never call so late it something-?”

“Rodimus has been kidnapped!” Optimus shrieked down the line, fumbling with his keys to the car. “Half an hour tops- I heard the car- I didn’t think about it I’ve failed him again how could I have let this happen?”

“Wait- what?” His voice was shaky, uncertain. Magnus was never uncertain. Optimus wheezed. “Calm down, explain, stay where you are, I’ll be there as soon as I can just hold on alright? And don’t try to give chase you have no idea where- get out the car Orion I heard that door slam- Hold on! Just wait, I’m coming!”

Magnus hung up. Optimus screamed. He threw the phone forwards with such force it smashed the truck window. But he did as Magnus asked. He stayed put. Waiting for Magnus to arrive in his car.

He’d been so blind, he thought, as he smothered his face in his hands once more. He’d failed Rod again. How could he have failed him again?


	5. Day 6, 2nd Month of Winter, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh Optimus, you bitter old fool.

Optimus cleared his throat, tapping his papers down on the desk in front of him as his eyes scanned the small crowd in front of him. Magnus, Jazz, Bumblebee, Blurr, Longarm and Cliffjumper all stood around the room, waiting. “Well I’m glad you could all make it here on short notice- it’s incredibly important that this matter is resolved as fast as possible.”

Blurr nervously raised his hand slightly, and Optimus gestured at him, allowing him to speak.

“Ok I’m sure this is super important and unavoidable and stuff and that it’s really vital for us all to be here but quick question- but why am _I_ here?”

Optimus faltered for a moment, before noticing similar confusion on the others. He’d gathered them all on emergency notice, but had only now realised that he hadn’t actually told them what was wrong.

Magnus knew what was happening, and surely Jazz did too. But the others… Optimus winced. He should have given more context.

“Rodimus has been kidnapped,” he hissed through clenched teeth, shoulders falling. “Or. Run away, or gone missing. Whatever the case, he hasn’t told me, and I… I hoped one of you might know something- anything.”

Shock spread around the room, a few words muttered between them. Particularly the two teenagers, who Optimus knew were close friends with Rod.

Longarm stepped forwards, arm slightly raised. “Last I saw of your son he was heading back to your house from the Academy. I have no connection to him unlike the others in this room excluding Cliffjumper- so why are _we_ here if we know nothing?”

“You’re in charge of surveillance of our troops, and of the Academy grounds. You focus on those coming in and out of Iacon,” Optimus explained, sitting down in his chair. “I’d hoped you’d have visual access to public surveillance- at least around Tarn. That way we could see the car that took him, perhaps track it, find a numberplate. As for Cliff, Rod has spent more time around HQ than ever before, I was wondering if you’d noticed anything off about him. If he ran away, I’m sure he would have told someone, or given hints to have been thinking about it.”

Longarm nodded, stepping back once more, and Springer awkwardly came forwards. “Hot Rod hasn’t spoken to me in months. I don’t know anywhere he would have gone. He hasn’t texted, or called… last I saw him was back in the second month of Autumn.”

“A whole season ago…” Optimus bit his lip. Rod considered Springer to be his unofficial brother. Rod used to share all his problems with Springer when he was a kid. If Optimus ever wanted to know anything, Springer was the obvious answer.

Perhaps that was why Rod hadn’t said anything to him.

“Right… thank you anyway Springer.” Optimus dismissed him, and Springer left with an awkward look to the others while Longarm searched his Datapad for information. Optimus looked around meaningfully, until Cliffjumper stepped forward.

“Well, when you called him in a while back, Wildrider had gotten in trouble and was in the holding cells again. Rod seemed to be nervous, and the- Wildrider’s sister?” He waited until Optimus nodded before he continued. “She seemed awful close to him. And he was relaxed after that. So maybe they were getting close to him for this? I mean, I hear Motormaster’s house is full as it is, but there’s that Warehouse he owns he could be keeping Rod in- we’ve done a few raids on it before.”

Optimus tilted his head. “The one in Tyrest, right? SB13?”

“That’s the one.”

Optimus leaned back. It was possible. Locked doors, locked storage closets, easy enough to keep someone in there short term before transporting them elsewhere for more permanent residence. Megatron had clearly marked Rodimus that night. And because Rod was so upset it would have been easy to take him without Optimus knowing. If it was Motormaster’s car then they’d assume Optimus would go to Motormaster’s. Which in turn would give them enough time to relocate Rod elsewhere.

But what if it wasn’t Motormaster? It could always be Onslaught. But then Onslaught lived down in Helex, while Motormaster was the one in Tarn. But if they were taking Rod to Tyrest then that was Helex anyway. For all Optimus knew they could be switching between the locations. They’d have to check them all. Just to be safe. 

“Cliffjumper, can you pass a message onto Prowl to organise three simultaneous raid parties as fast as he can for LDTA, and Upper and Lower District Helex- specifically for Motormaster’s house, his warehouse, and Onslaught’s house?” Optimus pulled up the team schedules, scanning them over. “His paperworks team will put efforts into missing persons pictures simultaneously.”

Cliffjumper made an unusual face, as if he wanted to ask, or object. But ultimately he said nothing, and nodded, leaving the room. Optimus sighed, calling in a few of the force preemptively on his pad. No need to make Prowl’s life harder. 

“Anyone else have any ideas?”

Longarm cleared his throat, stepping forwards with his data pad facing Optimus. “No camera angles reveal a numberplate clearly enough to be traced, nor do they reveal anything other than a car stopping in front of your house and someone entering it. It’s possible there are two people, but it’s more likely that Rod was threatened.”

Optimus looked closely at the footage, paused it, and tapped the screen. “Who’s the person who got out the car here?”

Longarm shrugged. “No one I know about. No one who frequents around here. Possibly an unrelated Decepticon.”

“Best to search Motormaster’s and Onslaught’s just in case?”

Longarm nodded. “I can make a few rough guesses on the person’s appearance, but I’ll have to check on a larger screen.”

Optimus hummed in conformation. “Inspect the footage as closely as possible. Do your best to identify the other person, and if Rod was taken or if he ran away. We need to find any clues we can on where Rod went- how far can you follow that car?”

“I’ll get back to you on that one.” Longarm turned, taking the data pad with him as he left the room. 

Optimus looked at the last four inside with him, and gave a tired look to the two teens. “Anything?”

“No texts, no calls, nothing since lunch today.” Answered Bumblebee with a helpless shrug. “Blurr, you saw him last? You were at your house right? What were you two doing? Did he say anything?”

Blurr shook his head, quickly. “Not a thing not a single thing well obviously he said things but nothing about that. He talked about school and how it was kinda rough but not like rough I’m not saying he said he was having any trouble, but I mean he seemed a little stressed and he wanted to walk home alone and I haven’t heard or seen him since and I don’t know why he would suddenly up and leave like that? Did something happen on his way home that I don’t know about at all?”

It took Optimus a while to understand Blurr’s fast pace. Were it anyone else he would have assumed a guilty conscience. But Optimus knew Blurr. This was just how he talked.

“I… I guess not. Thank you, the two of you. You can go now.”

They left. As soon as the door was closed, Optimus smashed his face on the desk. “Urghhhhhh.”

Someone shuffled closer, and a large hand on his head told him it was Magnus. “This must be rough on you.”

_“Urghhhhhh.”_ Optimus emphasised.

“Come on, it’ll sort itself out. It always does, you know this.” Magnus ruffled his hair, and Optimus whined in response. “We’ll find him. The longest missing persons case since you came into this job? Ten hours? You’ll find him soon.”

“No missing persons case has ever had Megatron involved before,” Optimus mumbled into the desk, words muffled by the wood squishing his cheek. “He dropped Rod off at my house Magnus. It was a threat and I should have paid more attention to it.”

“Very few people act on a threat they just made,” Magnus sighed. “I doubt any of us would have seen it coming.”

Silence fell over them for a moment, before Jazz started speaking. “Look, Optimus, I know you’ve got a standard to keep, and no doubt that people will talk with it being your own kid and all but… are you sure this has nothing to do with Dion?”

“It’s not about that!” He snapped back, lifting his head if only to glare. “This is about Megatron flaunting his ability to sneak under the Autobot’s noses, past all our security, and take someone away from us. This is about possible spies and moles, this is about the Decepticons!”

Jazz raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “And not about Rod.”

“No.”

Jazz shivered, but the grin he hid poorly told Optimus it was a joke. “That’s cold, man.”

“Regardless,” Optimus stood up, his chair being pushed back as he did. “This little affair needs to blow over as soon as possible. I _cannot_ allow Megatron to win, not after he was so- so impudent. Whatever has happened to Rod will be dealt with afterwards. I need to talk to him about this anyway. And Primus help him if he ran away.”

He grit his teeth, turning away from the desk, just missing the nervous look Magnus and Jazz shared.

“Optimus, I understand your motives,” Magnus began, hesitant, unlike his usual demeanour. “But even though the Decepticons are clearly at fault, do you not think they will take this as an insult? You could tempt them into doing something quite dangerous.”

“Even better.” Optimus growled. “If they mess up then I can catch them in the act- I can tear down their pathetic little faction of lies. They think they’re invincible, but I’ll turn that confidence against them. I’ll finally get Megatron back for everything he’s done.”

Jazz took a deep breath in, but before he could speak Optimus turned around, glaring. “I already told you. This is my job. And I will do my job.”

“That was about Rod-!”

“It was never about Rod!” He snarled, watching Jazz take an unsure step back. “Rod doesn’t matter. In the scheme of things Rod is- he’s insignificant. My job is to protect Tarn from Decepticon forces; not to chase a stupid child around. This is merely my excuse for finally being able to tear down their disguises and put an end to this mockery of justice.”

His nails scraped on the wood. “I’ll get him back for this. For all of this. Even if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

“Optimus….”

“Leave,” he waved his hand, dismissing Magnus and Jazz without care. “Please. 

I have to think.”

He heard the door shut. He panted, fists trembling, before roaring as he twisted around. He seized his chair, and threw it against the wall. 

This time Megatron wasn’t getting away with it.


	6. Day 6, 2nd Month of Winter, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We go back a few days, and I can finally put drift/rod back in the tags.  
> Lets learn more about Deadlock.

Rod stared at the room he’d entered. He hadn’t expected anything better, exactly, but he hadn’t expected it so be so…. openly messy. Deadlock was still behind him, locking up. He’d heard at least five of them now, but it was LDK, so maybe that was why?

“I’m sorry about the mess,” Deadlock started, an embarrassed look on his face. “It’s not like we get visitors often. Or have many reasons to clean up in the first place.”

“It’s fine,” Rod smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”

The ‘mess’ was almost completely chemistry gear, some liquids of various colours still bubbling away on low heat. No doubt used to make drugs. Rod had known Deadlock was a Decepticon, but somehow he never really thought he’d ever have to deal with what that entailed. And yet here he was, staring down obvious, undeniable proof that Deadlock was keenly aware of how to produce drugs.

Not to mention the abundance of weaponry around the room. Guns were scattered over any and all surfaces in various states of obvious repair. Even Rod- who had only ever seen his fathers work pistol -could tell that none of the things in this room were meant to detain a person.

But he didn’t want to think about that right now. He didn’t want to think about Autobots and Decepticons, or about his father. He wanted to lay down and not be bothered for days. Maybe weeks. Even a whole season.

“-later, so if you hear something don’t worry.”

Deadlock had been talking. Rod laughed nervously. “Sorry, what?”

“Gasket,” Deadlock repeated calmly. “He’s my… I don’t know actually. Guardian? Roommate? Whatever the case, he lives here too, so if you hear something later it’s just him coming home.”

Rod looked around again, as if he hadn’t already noticed every gun, bullet, used syringe and broken glass shard when he first entered. “So is some of this his?”

Deadlock laughed, gently pushing Rod forwards. “If it’s not a weapon it’s Gaskets. All the guns are mine, but all those fancy chemistry sets? Those are his. He’s the drug genius around here.”

“What about the swords?”

Deadlock’s face fell, and he gave Rod a sad smile. “Inheritance I guess. They belonged to a friend of mine, who I was pretty close to. When he died, I got them because they couldn’t send them to the middle of the desert. I was closest to next of kin- whether they liked it or not.”

Rod frowned, and tilted his head, crossing the room to sit on a space on the sofa. “I’m- I’m sorry for your loss, but… the middle of the desert?”

Deadlock laughed. “The Rust Sea. Wing- my friend -was from Crystal City, I have no idea where it is myself, he never told me. But I got some kickin’ swords out of it so it was worth knowing him at least a little.”

Rod paused. He thought of everything he knew about Deadlock, and realised he came up short. He didn’t know much, and what he did wasn’t about him so much as it was about what he did. He’d never heard about Wing, or Gasket. But both of them seemed like they were, or had been, important people in Deadlock’s life. Even from this little information, Rod could tell they were very, very different people. Deadlock’s world seemed almost alien to him.

“Are you alright?” Deadlock spoke softly, fingertips brushing on Rod’s cheek to direct his gaze to his own.

“I barely know you.” Rod replied, just as soft. Deadlock’s red eyes betrayed sadness with his care. An almost melancholy affection. Rod wished he could lose himself to the ruby red all over again.

“That’s a good thing.”

“Did we rush into this?”

Deadlock laughed. Rod couldn’t help his smile in return. Deadlock’s eyes wrinkled with his smile, and he knelt down to be on Rod’s level. “You called me in a panic and we ran away to my apartment. I think that’s pretty fast.”

“Do you think I should go back?”

“Do you?”

Rods eyes drifted from Deadlocks. “No.”

“No.”

Rod leaned into the hand on his cheek, eyelids fluttering shut. Deadlock was cold, and it felt so soothing. The rough callouses from work gave juxtaposition to his own too soft skin, and Deadlock’s thumb ran across his cheekbone to wipe away a tear. Rod didn’t realise he’d started crying.

“So,” Deadlock whispered. “What now?”

Rod shuffled over a bit, leaving enough room for Deadlock to sit. “Can we just… talk?”

He smiled, sitting in the space Rod left. Rod leaned against him, resting his head on his shoulder as Deadlock took his hand and entwined their fingers. They stayed that way, in silence but for the noise of cars and distant music from outside, until it naturally reached its end.

“Who was Wing?”

Deadlock smiled, looking over to the swords with a remorseful gaze. “He was a good man. I met him in Lower Kaon, on the boarder of Vos. He was having some trouble with the police and as the less-than-good-natured man I was back then, I saw an opportunity to fight and took it.”

“And he didn’t agree?”

“Absolutely not,” he sighed. “Wing was very disappointed. I’d say angry, but Primus knows he could never get truly angry. He was patient, calm, caring. I thought he was a priest when we first met. In all honesty, he could have been. Some Praxian, Primus loving priest out to make fun of the masses, but nope. He had just crossed the Red Sea for a pilgrimage of sorts. He never said exactly why.”

Rod stared up at him, and then whispered a question. “Did you love him?”

“With all my heart.” 

They fell into silence again, before Deadlock sighed, and continued with the kind of expression someone has when they’re remembering something irritating, but can’t be asked to be mad about it.

“Not enough at the time, though. He insisted staying with me to help influence my ways, and I thought he was full of shit. I got mad at him a lot and he really tried his best with me. But then we got mixed up in that huge clash in Helex and he defended me. Turns out swords aren’t better than guns after all.”

“Do you miss him?”

“A lot. All the time. But not so much that I’m held back by it. He wanted me to move on, keep growing. Stop taking drugs, stop fighting, get a better job. All that stuff. I’m technically not able to retrieve my legal citizen stuff ‘cause I’m a ‘con, so I can’t really do the last two, but the drug thing has been going well.”

Rod thought for a moment, then dared to ask. “What drugs?”

Deadlock winced. “Ok you gotta not judge me for this one, but Neural boosters and Syk.”

“Seriously?”

He pouted, giving Rod a pitiful look, to which Rod just snorted, shoving him playfully. “You are absolutely not as innocent here as you're trying to put on.”

“You’re absolutely right- but I’ve been doing better at least! Some people don’t even make that effort. I can think of several off the top of my head.”

Rod laughed, practically leaping into Deadlock’s arms to hug him tight. “You’re a real nuisance aren’t you?”

“A scourge to the Autobot ways I’m sure,” Deadlock mumbled into his hair. “But you should probably start unpacking if you think you’re gonna stay here a while. I know you only bought one bag but best to settle in.”

Rod’s mood dropped, and he sighed. “I don’t think I ever wanna go back. It doesn’t feel good to be there, to be an Autobot. I wanna stay here with you.”

“Then do,” Deadlock smiled, closing his eyes. “Just know that you always have the choice to go back, if this turns out to just be a vacation for you.”

“I don’t think it will be, but alright.” 

“That’s all I ask. Now go get your bag, I’ll show you the room.”


	7. Day 8, 2nd Month of Winter, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kup, Nightbeat, and Springer have a nice day out.  
> 'Nice' and 'day' are a bit of a stretch though.

It had been two days.

Springer had been unsettled when Optimus had made the announcement. They had to find his son at all costs, but he made it clear that Rod didn’t matter to him, he was just traceable evidence. The wellbeing of his son meant nothing if it meant he could defeat the Decepticons.

It didn’t sit right with him. Optimus had always been a respectful officer of the autobot forces. One of the youngest Primes in Cybertronian history, highly successful, one for the common people. That hadn’t been the man he knew up there- fists clutching the desk, bags under his eyes which had taken a terrifying, fierce personality.

Springer had wanted to speak up, to say something. Maybe in the defence of Rod, maybe to ask Optimus if he was ok, but it just wasn’t his place. Being an Autobot was everything to Springer. He couldn’t risk losing his job or even being suspended for questioning a superior officer, and unlike before, he doubted Optimus would take questioning as well intended. 

There was nothing he could do. Not for his boss, not for his co-workers, and not for his adoptive little brother who was supposed to trust him, but apparently couldn’t, and had acted so strangely last time they talked.

“Hey,” Kup leaned over, snapping his fingers in front of Springers face. “Wake up sleeping beauty. I said we’re here.”

“Where is ‘here’?” Nightbeat groaned from the backseat. “This is some random field in fuck-knows LDTE.”

Kup sighed, in the way that Springer knew to be his ‘tired-old-man’ tone. “Because this has been recorded as a Decepticon drop off point before and we’re now on lookout for suspicious activity, or potential Decepticon cars for what could be potentially dropping Rod off for collection by someone else. Or something like that.”

Springer frowned, picking at the skin of his thumb. “Isn’t it worth it? Rodimus could be in serious trouble. We should check everywhere until we find him before…”

He cut himself off when both Nightbeat and Kup gave him disbelieving looks, but quickly recovered, snapping at them. “Rod’s practically my brother, alright? I’m worried about him! So forgive me if I approve of this extensive search for him, regardless of the Prime’s reasoning.”

Kup snorted, reclining the drivers seat back, much to Nightbeat’s irritation. “Prime’s talking shit. Nothing’s happening to Rod that he didn’t ask for and no one’s coming this way but for regular drop-offs.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? How can you be so sure?” Springer began, but Nightbeat raised a hand to stop him.

“Longarm and I reviewed the footage. Though there’s no evidence to suggest there wasn’t some form of manipulation- which is what Optimus latched onto -Rod is very clearly the one climbing down from his own window, and running to the owner of the car. After talking to some of my… less legal sources, I confirmed that the car doesn’t belong to either Motormaster or Onslaught. We have our suspicions on who it belongs to but in all honestly? That information might be best kept secret.”

“Just say you talk to a ‘con, Nightbeat,” Kup huffed, rolling down his window. “We all know you’ve got favours around, having a friend isn’t illegal.”

Springer’s jaw dropped. Why would that information be ‘best kept secret’? What had Rod gotten himself into? And of course he knew everyone had their own little secrets, and a lot of the time they were Decepticon orientated, but he never would have thought to just come out and say it. It was practically treason after all.

“Not all of us are as open as our most recent lays as you are,” Nightbeat pulled out a laptop from his bag. His eyes shifted slyly to look at Kup through the rear view mirror. “Some of us consider open statements like that to be rather… anti-autobot.”

“‘Anti-Autobot’,” Kup barked out a laugh, tilting his head to look at the detective incredulously. “What, are you watching those old videos of Sentinel?”

Nightbeat said nothing, instead returning Kup’s look until the old man caught on to whatever he meant. Then Kup’s eyes flicked to Springer, whose mouth was still slightly open. “Ah. Right.”

“No, wait, hang on,” Springer came back to life, though the other two in the car tried to ignore him. “Are you guys serious? Are we really not trying to help Rod? You don’t think that- that we…?”

“‘We’re all cogs in the Autobot machine’? Sure I do,” Kup closed his eyes, seemingly settling in for a good nap. “Just not in the way you think.”

Springer paused. “I don’t understand.”

Nightbeat sighed, tilting his screen down. “Kup believes that people should be judged on their personality rather than whether or not they’re an Autobot. Also that being a police state is a terrible idea, that Quintessons are real-”

“They are real.”

“…And that some of the original thirteen are still alive out there.” Nightbeat finished. Springer blinked in disbelief, trying to come to terms with everything that had just been said. He had so many questions, so many of those things he didn’t really get, and yet he could only think of one question.

“How have you stayed on the force if that’s your opinion?”

Kup laughed. His hand came up to his forehead, his palm rubbing his eye. “Geez kid, you think I told my bosses? My superior officers? Of course not. Nightbeat got this all out of me after one too many drinks down at the pub. No, no kid, I’m old enough to know better than to tell everyone my bitter opinions. I just assumed you knew better too.”

Springer squirmed under the statement. “I- I don’t see how I’m wrong, though! Surely it’s better to follow orders by people who know more than you rather than to make assumptions and get yourself killed. Maybe you’re just lucky. Rod on the other hand could be with someone more dangerous, or he could do something stupid and get hurt.”

Nightbeat raised an eyebrow, then looked away, clearly avoiding saying something. Springer bristled, already feeling rather stupid. “What?”

“Rod could get hurt by someone who called themselves an Autobot, you know,” Kup spoke smoothly. “Did you consider that there might be some less than savoury people in the force?”

Springer frowned. “I’ve met Starsabre, yes.”

Nightbeat snorted. Kup ignored him, and continued. “So it makes sense there could be some nicer people in the Decepticons too?”

Springer knew he must have looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. He hadn’t really thought about it in that way- or at all really. Of course it made sense. But it stung to admit. He’d been fighting Decepticons so long it was hard to think of them as anything but Decepticons. And with that realisation came the acknowledgement that they likely had friends, families, coworkers they had fun with during lunch hours, like himself. Was this how Kup felt all the time? Did he struggle to fight Decepticons, knowing this?

But Springer had known it too. He’d just wilfully ignored it. He hadn’t wanted to think that they were people too, even if he thought their jobs were wrong, or came from a bad place. And he knew that most Decepticons they’d arrested hadn’t owned proper papers, proof of existence, not because they hadn’t been born in Cybertron, but because they couldn’t retrieve their documents post a family disaster, or due to being underage, or not having the funds to replace them.

“Hey, I know that face. Don’t think about it so hard,” Kup’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Nothin’ we can do right now. Voting season ain’t on us yet after all.”

Springer nodded slowly. Right, don’t think about it. This conversation never happened. He leaned back in his seat, and stared out the window. The road was empty, the sky was growing darker, and Iacon Tower stood glowing against the horizon. A beacon to the central city. A huge towering sculpture, supposedly built by the original thirteen leaders of Cybertron. It was supposedly everything Autobot, but no one had ever been above the second floor. 

“Kup?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we the bad guys?”

Kup was silent. Nightbeat stopped typing for a brief moment before starting again. Kup cleared his throat. “I’m not talking philosophy Springer, especially not right now. We shouldn’t have brought it up. Don’t think about it anymore- there’s nothing you can do.”

Springer kept his eyes focused on Iacon Tower. Tales said it used to be gold, but had turned bronze with weathering and pollution. He wondered if it was true. He wondered if the Autobots were the same. His head hurt, despite having no real reason to. He had known all that, and yet it still felt like his world had fallen apart, like he’d been lied to his whole life. Like his little adoptive brother had been lied to his whole life.

Springer sighed, closing his eyes as Nightbeat tapped away on his keyboard. He wished this had just been about Rod. He wished he knew if he was safe.


	8. Day 9, 2nd Month of Winter, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only by it being past midnight is it truly this date. Optimus is tired (of being 'wrong').

Optimus was tired. There had been so many witness statements, reports, and other various pieces of paperwork to go through for recent crimes, that by the time he had gotten to missing persons reports- and Longarm’s subsequent report on the video archives -it had gone far past usual HQ closing hours. 

There was so little to go on. It was like Rodimus and his kidnapper had just vanished into thin air, leaving behind a trail of dust that blew away too quickly for Optimus to grab. The raids organised for Motormaster and Onslaught’s houses would happen tonight, and Optimus had no doubt that they would be unsuccessful. They would find nothing, just like usual. No trace of Rodimus, and no signs of Decepticon activity. Just like always. Too good at hiding, at sneaking around. Too aware of how the Autobots worked to lose to them. Meanwhile all Optimus did was lose ground, lose people. Loss after loss.

Optimus sighed, slumping back in his chair. Elita would be furious when she found out about this mess. He hadn’t told her yet- news was that the mountain had been under severe attack lately. Sharkticon forces increasing their attacks, and had almost managed to breach the fort. She was too busy for personal affairs. Besides, Optimus should have taken better care of his son. Their son.

If only he’d never met Megatron. So much would have been different. But Optimus was sure this would all be so much easier. Maybe none of this would ever have happened. Maybe it would have been better. It couldn’t possibly be worse.

A knock on the door interrupted him, and Optimus smiled as Magnus slowly opened the door, coming in with a mug of coffee and shutting the door carefully behind him.

“You are a Primus sent gift, Magnus,” Optimus sighed, taking the warm mug in his hands. “How’s Jazz?”

“He’s alright. I came as soon as he was home- how are you holding up?”

Optimus shook his head, staring into the coffee. “It feels so hopeless. Every attempt is a dead end- his phone is off and can’t be traced, and it’s last recorded location was outside the house. The car has no visible numberplate, so we can’t track insurance, ownership, or address. Security cameras, witness reports, other various investigations of drop off points and meet up locations, and now the raid… it feels the same as it did before. Like there’s nothing I can do until someone else finds him. It feels like the same fate is creeping up on me once again. Like some kind of karmic retribution for something I don’t know about.”

Magnus pulled up one of the chairs, sitting opposite the desk. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

The office hung in silence for a bit before Optimus laughed. “Over forty years and you're as bad with feelings as ever. I can _not_ talk about it, if you don’t think you can handle emotional connections.”

His brother huffed, folding his arms defensively. If Magnus were a less stubborn man, Optimus was sure he would have blushed. “I can handle it and you know it. You think my marriage was build off nothing? Besides, I’m worried about you. I want to help.”

“You’re terrible at it,” Optimus snorted, but quickly sobered. His smile fell from his face, and he tapped his nails against the china mug. “I… I don’t feel well. It’s the same. I didn’t want to admit it, but it feels the same. I know Megatron didn’t kill Dion, and I know the fact that Nightbird was involved was only a coincidence, and yet here I am. Waiting for Rodimus to show up in the river, throat slit and…”

He shook his head again, taking a swig from the mug. Magnus watched, a sad look on his face. “You still miss him. You still miss Dion.”

“Of course I do,” Optimus felt like crying. He felt like punching walls and breaking things, but couldn’t find the energy to do anything but sit at his desk, head in his hands. “I loved him. You know I loved him. But it can’t be about him now. It can’t be about him ever again, because he's not here for it to _be_ about. He was deluded, he thought- thought that there could be peace. He tolerated Megatron’s ideas and ideals when he knew as well as I did they would never work. He was an Autobot just like I was, and because of how he felt and what he thought, I put up with Megatron for him and then he- he died!”

Optimus’ hand fisted his own hair, and he spoke through clenched teeth. “He was our mediator, our middle ground, because no one could hate Dion. No one could ever hate Dion because he was just… so wonderful. He was naive and optimistic but he didn’t want to give up on the concept that there could be peace between all of us. But now he’s gone, and I have to stop Megatron from making stupid mistakes, from hurting people, and…!”

Magnus frowned, waiting a few minutes before speaking. “Dion was always a peacekeeper. He was the bridge between your two extremes.”

“He was _deluded_ ,” Optimus snapped. “And he was wrong; no part of Megatron’s ideas should have come to fruition. We agreed on the end result, sure, but the way he wanted to do it? Just showed how disillusioned _he_ was as well. Dion should never have indulged him. And…”

He glared at Magnus, suddenly tensing. “And you, saying that- that I’m an extreme. Are you ‘neutral’ about this situation too? Believe there’s ‘two sides to the story’ or whatever Dion used to say? Do you believe Megatron is right?”

Magnus was affronted. Optimus felt himself flinch at his brothers face. He shouldn’t have snapped, he knew that, but now he’d made his brother angry. He hated making his brother angry.

“Orion you know full well that I agree with you, and always have. I have supported you all this time, why would that change now?”

Optimus went to snap at him again, tell him that of course it could change, that people were unreliable, but the words caught in his throat. That wasn’t Magnus. Magnus was right, he always supported Optimus, even though he was technically his superior. He lowered his head into his hands, rubbing his eyes with his palms. Magnus was right. He was lashing out, he was getting mad at nothing. He hissed a breath out through his teeth, chugging the rest of the coffee. “I- you’re right. Sorry.”

Magnus nodded, though he seemed unsatisfied with the response. Unsure of what else to say, Optimus carried on.

“No one else seems to get it. Sometimes it feels as if I’m the only sane person in the world.”

Magnus tilted his head. He seemed like he wanted to say something, maybe some derisive comment on how Optimus was overreacting, but stayed silent. Optimus appreciated it. Even if he was overreacting, or exaggerating, it helped to talk about it with someone he trusted.

“Everyone seems to assume this is personal, about some kind of grudge. But it’s not- it hasn’t been for a long time. I haven’t been legitimately angry at Megatron for at least eighteen, maybe nineteen years now. This is about the truth, and how Megatron and his ideals are clouding it. This is about being right and being wrong. About us being right, and him being wrong.”

Optimus stood up walking to look out his office window. “This is about us or them, and I hope you’re ready to fight for it- because its a fight we can’t lose.”

Magnus came up behind him, but Optimus didn’t turn around. “Is it a fight we have to have?”

He breathed deeply. He’d questioned that himself so many times; if all this could be avoided. If somehow this could be resolved peacefully, without further conflict. But it couldn’t. Truly, it never could have been. They’d been denying the inevitable for so long now that it had gotten out of hand, and now Optimus had to put a stop to it. No matter what his previous feelings on the matter may have been.

“I’m afraid so. Will you fight with us?”

Magnus was silent. For a moment, Optimus felt afraid that his brother may too become his enemy. But his hand on his shoulder reassured him that no, his brother was on his side. His brother was always on his side.

“Of course, Orion,” Magnus said, louder than a whisper, but with more emotion than Optimus had ever heard him speak with. “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever realise you've made a mistake and only realise you've made it when it's too late to rectify it? Yeah, well I literally only have 2 chapters written left and 10 hasn't even been edited yet.  
> So anticipate this going to bed over the new year until I get my shit together lmao.


	9. Day 9, 2nd Month of Winter, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's late at night and so the secrets are about.

Megatron felt like shit.

Starscream was sitting next to him, typing away at his laptop. A paper he had to write for his chemistry class, or something like that. Megatron had no idea, not that he really cared, he had more important things on his mind. Starscream had been particularly bothersome recently, making strange demands, paying more attention to his friends than schoolwork, this, along with the obscene amounts of work Megatron had to do, Megatron’s headache, and the difficulty with working around the Autobot forces as of late, he felt it was pretty reasonable to feel shitty.

Plus, Soundwave was late, not that waiting on Soundwave was a tiresome concept, but Soundwave was rarely late, it was a cause for concern, even though he knew the reason. Soundwave had texted Megatron about half an hour ago saying that Rumble and Frenzy were being difficult with their bedtime. He hadn’t used any codewords, he hadn’t said anything was wrong, it wasn’t anything wrong, but Megatron still worried.

“He’s fine, you know how bad the twins are.” Starscream muttered from next to him, without looking up from his screen. “He only texted because he knew you’d throw a fit.”

“Shut up Starscream.”

“I’m just saying.” Starscream replied, typing his next few keys perhaps a little harder than necessary.

Starscream was right, but that didn’t mean Megatron was going to listen to him, he rarely did. Soundwave was fine, Soundwave was always fine, he’d never gotten caught since that time when they were kids, when they were young and reckless like any teenager was.

The sound of the front door being opened distracted him, and he smiled when Soundwave entered the room, hair pulled back into a ponytail to stop it hanging over his eyes, Megatron relaxed at the sight of them- tinged with that unusual purple glow and fierce as ever.

“My apologies,” Soundwave signed, pausing to let his hair down. “The twins, insistent, one more show.”

Megatron let his shoulders relax and sat back on the sofa. “Not to worry. You’re here now. Tell me what’s been happening in your side of town; I’ve been hearing rumours of trouble brewing in the Autobots headquarters.”

Soundwave nodded, sitting in the chair Starscream had pulled out for him. “Yes,” his hands stopped and restarted a few times before settling on a sentence. “R-O-D assumed kidnapping.”

Megatron raised an eyebrow, staring at him. “Rodimus... kidnapped someone?”

Soundwave slapped him on the side of his shoulder. His irritated expression conveyed his meaning- ‘don’t be stupid’. Right, of course Rodimus hadn’t kidnapped someone.

“He was kidnapped?!” Megatron exclaimed, to which Soundwave nodded. “Who?” Soundwave shook and Megatron frowned. “When did it happen?”

“Three days.”

Three whole days ago? The day Megatron visited? Megatron tensed, Optimus would have found Rodimus by now. “Sweet Primus, that long already?” He commented.

“Yes, and Optimus blames us.” Starscream added. “And why wouldn’t he? He doesn’t have a reason to think it would be anyone else.” He paused, clicking things on his laptop. “He’s been keeping an eye on our activity, he won’t find anything of course, but it’s still trouble.”

“Yes,” Soundwave frowned. “M-M, O-S, houses checked.”

Megatron sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back in his chair. “Not surprising. Everyone suspects Motormaster and Onslaught, even if they don’t have the evidence. Who else has been searched, they haven’t found Strika, or Impactor have they?”

“K-U-P, asked around. Knows not us. Others: unsure. T-H twins investigated.”

Starscream hummed, not looking up from his screen. “Thunderhoof?” He enquired slightly. “Sideswipe I know, he’s in a few of Rod’s classes, it can’t be them though, he’s curious and Sunstreaker was probably just tailing him.” Starscream paused slightly his typing slowing down to a halt. “His dad, Starsabre, has had it out for Optimus since day one.”

“He’s always been trying to get under Optimus’ skin.” Megatron agreed. “Never could take no for an answer. So they’re searching for Rodimus, they wouldn’t be interested in looking for weapons and drugs and the like, right?” Megatron asked, his mouth curling with a sly smile.

“Yes.”

Megatron uttered one single dry laugh. “Then we should be fine on that front. Continue to monitor their search Soundwave, and scramble work order a bit more, don’t leave anything in obvious places, the usual tactics. Is Shockwave up to creating new passwords?” Soundwave shrugged. Meaning Megatron would have to ask him by himself. “Right. Anything else we should be concerned about?”

“Races, popular. Income, steady. Dealer, Iacon, stable. No concerns, transport safe.”

“What about our manpower? You were concerned during our last meeting that we were too low to be shuffling shifts so rapidly.” Soundwave made an expression, the ‘that’s always a problem’ face. “So it hasn’t been resolved?” Megatron enquired further

“T-R-M, difficult. Others, work. T-R-M loses fast, harsh, not for beginners. Assigned professionals only. Manufacture, up. Kaon not often searched, dealers up, sell more. Popular at clubs and races, enhancers. O-V-L missing.”

Megatron nodded, not too concerned with the report. Turmoil was always a problem, and Overlord dropping off the map wasn’t unheard of. Especially since that whole fiasco with Galvatron; she always did have a weak spot for people equally as violent as her. Though he wouldn’t exactly put it down as a weak spot so much as a spot of irritation, With the dealers up they’d have to do more quality checking, but, so long as they kept buying from his group and not amateurs looking for a quick few shanix, it wouldn’t be a problem. 

It was better when they had assured quality for everyone involved and a strict ‘no kids’ rule- he got more, less people died, it was hard to enforce, but dead buyers don’t come back, that served enough as an encouragement.

Megatron took his mind back to the present: Soundwave’s report. “Weaponry?” He inquired.

“M-M, O-S, manufacture not located, still producing, safe.”

“Good. Good. And you?”

Soundwave smiled. “Good,” he signed. “Tired. Opposing military state difficult.”

“I meant more along the lines of you and your kids,” Megatron grinned back, leaning on his hand, and ignoring Starscream rolling his eyes to his left. “Though I don’t suspect that they’re just as tiring.”

Soundwave gave a small huff of voiceless laughter. “Trouble.” He snorted. “Twins always trouble. Me, fine. No worries.”

“He always worries.” Starscream snided, though said nothing more when Megatron glared at him.

Megatron leant back in his chair, closing his eyes. “But, back to Optimus’ suspicions of us, my presence on the night Rodimus went missing no doubt earned us the highest place on his list of suspects. A cause for concern, if not a threat. We should investigate their records for evidence against us and go about “disproving it”. I want to prevent damage to us and get this affair over with. I’ll contact Shockwave about that and the passwords.”

Soundwave tapped him on the shoulder, waiting for Megatron to open one lazy red eye. “Me, do now?” He signed.

“No, no, I can do it later tonight. Rodimus isn’t an issue, but I won’t hesitate to interfere if it means protecting us. We should be careful, I refuse to lose to Optimus over this. His mockery of justice is an affront to me.” Soundwave scoffed, and Megatron frowned. “I’m serious. You know it as well as I do. He’ll use Rodimus as an excuse, and so will I if I have to. After all, I can ‘understand’ his pain- I too have a son.”

“Wow, you do?” Starscream drawled, face expressionless. “Thanks dad, can I have a new jet?”

Megatron leaned over, and flicked him in the ear. Starscream dissolved into giggles. “I regret ever telling you you weren’t mine.” 

“I’m not stupid, I would have figured it out.” Starscream argued.

“Maybe so.” Megatron smiled, before turning his attention back to Soundwave. “Will you be sticking around for Shockwave’s arrival or will you head back? I know it’s a long trip, and you’ve got the twins at home, but you know it’s better to do these things in person, there is a lot we need to tell him.”

Soundwave smiled. “It’s fine. I’ll stay. R-V-G at home.”

Megatron nodded, and relaxed in his chair, his mood much lighter than before Soundwave’s arrival, writing down some quick points of interest to bring up with Shockwave, receiving Soundwave’s occasional input, and Starscream’s insistent correction of his spelling.

Optimus wasn’t going to get away with his acts of aggression against Megatron’s system. And Megatron almost had the perfect plan for its much needed response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want a nap.  
> I've only got one chapter left finished so I'm probably gonna be on break for the new year. I'll post the last chapter I have done on the 20th and then I'll probably have stuff done by late January, I hope. So I'll see you all then! I hope you'll all be patient with me,,


	10. Day 11, 2nd Month of Winter, 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little aside between Blurr and Bee.

Bumblebee tapped his nails against the wood of his desk, waiting for Blurr to pick up. He knew something wasn’t right between Blurr and Rodimus, but also didn’t want to get Blurr into trouble if he genuinely didn’t know anything.

He picked up on the third ring.

_“Bumblebee? What’s up did you forget to write down the homework or something, are you stuck on a question? Why are you calling late also it’s like seven you rarely call this late is it about stuff I do or Longarm or is it less pressing cause you know I live alone.”_

“It’s none of that,” Bee sighed, leaning back in his chair. “It’s about Rod.”

He heard silence on the other end, and resisted the urge to accuse Blurr of knowing something. He could be busy, distracted. Maybe even confused.

_“What about him? Has he still not turned up cause I thought Optimus was going all out to find him I thought he was just suspended or grounded or something like that.”_

Bee felt relief, and guilt soon after. He should be worried about his cousin, but he couldn’t help but be relieved that Blurr wasn’t involved with whatever was happening.

“No, he hasn’t been found. He’s still missing. I asked… a friend of mine if he knew anything, but nothing. I know you might have a few things more to say on the matter; maybe some that you can’t tell Optimus?”

He heard Blurr open something, then the rustle of fabric. Presumably he was doing the laundry while they talked. _“There might be some things Beebee but you’ve really really really gotta promise me you won’t say cause I’m already in trouble and if I get into more I might never be able to join the force.”_

Bee got up, and shut the door to his room. He knew it wouldn’t stop either of his dads from listening in if they wanted to, but it was worth the attempt. “Promise.”

_“Rod wasn’t at my house the day he went missing.”_

A cold chill ran down Bee’s spine. The pause, especially with Blurr, indicated something much more sinister. “Ok?”

_“He was struggling loads Bee I wanted to be a better friend and he broke down in tears and he felt awful so I didn’t know how to make it up to him, so me and him went over to Starscream’s house with the other two ‘cause I thought it might help him out some more like if he had people to talk to who weren’t so deep in the Autobot stuff and he relaxed a bit and he felt more comfortable but we’d only been there a few hours before Megatron took him home.”_

“Are you for real?” Bee hissed into the phone, a hand running through his hair. Starscream’s house. Megatron’s house. No wonder they’d kept it secret. But Optimus had said Megatron took Rod home from Blurr’s house, which meant Megatron lied for Rod. Or for someone else- maybe Starscream? But Blurr was still talking.

_“I know I know it sounds stupid but it really helped him and he talked a bit more openly and he was totally at ease and I haven’t seen colour in his cheeks since we were kids but he was smiling and it wasn’t shaky or nervous and he was happy to be around them Bee! I don’t think he was kidnapped at all.”_

Bee’s eyes instinctively flicked to his closed door, as if there would be some indication that his parents had heard. “Really? What do you think then?”

_“I think he ran away,”_ came Blurr’s honest reply. Bee could hear him nervously speeding up his housework in the background. _“I don’t know where he went or- or who he went with and I’m sure Starscream and Megatron couldn’t hide him but I do know he got home earlier from the race than if he had walked like he said.”_

Bee sat on his bed with a solid thump, running his hand through his hair again, trying to keep up with Blurr’s speech pattern and put together what he meant. “Wait… the race, that long ago? What do you mean he got home earlier than he should have?”

Blurr huffed on the other end of the phone, slamming what was probably a washing machine door shut. _“I mean he got a lift home Bee. I don’t know who by and I don’t know how they kept in touch but if he’d walked home from that race after it ended he would not have gotten home by ‘early morning’. He would have been missing for a whole day or so especially with his stamina.”_

So Rod knew someone. And that someone had driven him home on the day of the race instead of walking home, which meant they weren’t an Autobot, and Rod was more comfortable around Starscream if Blurr was to be believed, so he would have been fine with a ‘Con. Bee covered his mouth with his free hand as he put the clues together.

“He’s ran off with someone he’s known for two months at best and whoever he was with on the day of the race is that person.”

_“Yes.”_

Bee grimaced. “And you can’t tell anyone because that means admitting a lot of things that would get you in serious trouble.”

_“Yes.”_

He groaned out loud, falling back onto his mattress. There was no way to track the person, he was sure. Not without doing something very illegal, or alerting someone who had to tell their superiors. “We can’t help him.”

_“To be perfectly honest I don’t think he needs our help,”_ for once, Blurr spoke haltingly. Unsure of what he was saying. _“I mean I know he’s going to get into a lot of trouble over this and he might even get arrested and it’ll be a huge thing for his family and yours and I’m not sure what will happen at all but. I don’t think he needs our help at all. I think he needs to drop off the map and I think he has and I don’t think he’s coming back.”_

“You think a lot of things.” Bee smiled to himself, despite the situation. “But I think I agree with you. We don’t know where he is, we don’t know who he’s with, and if he comes back he might as well not have. He’d be a missing person like… forever.”

The thought of not seeing Rod again made him feel sad. Which in turn made him feel guiltier. If only he’d done something to help before all this had happened. Before it went too far. He’d been ignoring Rod’s problems because he thought he was exaggerating them. Bee winced as he imagined how Rod must have felt, and he recalled something Rod had said a good while ago.

‘I can’t find anything that makes me happy anymore.’

How long? How long had Rod been silent about his feelings, only for them to slip out under the slightest amount of pressure? And what kind of person was Bumblebee for ignoring his calls for help?

Everyone had started thinking he was on drugs, but he was just sick. And now Bee felt sick too. 

_“It’s not a nice thought though. Maybe there’s some way through this without anything really bad happening to him or us.”_

Bee frowned. “I don’t think so. I think we missed that opportunity ages back. Maybe there was something we could have done before he ran, but I don’t think we saw it.”

They were both silent for a moment more. 

_“Bee?”_

“Yeah?”

_“What do you think he would have done if I hadn’t bought him to the race? If he hadn’t met the person there and if they hadn’t driven him home and if they hadn’t kept in touch. What would he have done without that person to reach out to and apparently trusted to take him somewhere safe enough to hide for what’s probably going to be the rest of his life?”_

“I don’t think he thought that far ahead,” Bee mused. “Something about him planning it seems off. Especially with the way he was- you know if he’d thought about it his paranoia would have stopped him. But if he hadn’t met whoever it is… I don’t know. Why?”

Blurr sighed, and Bee heard him sit down on something. _“Because I’m wondering if he would have been better or worse. If I hadn’t, Optimus wouldn’t have been mad at him when he came back. But he also wouldn’t have found someone he probably thought was safe. Would Optimus have just been mad at him down the line again anyway and would Rod have had the same breakdown and would he have run away if he didn’t have anywhere to go or anyone to talk to?”_

They were silent again as Bee thought about it. He bit his lip, remembering what Rod had said, what he’d done, and what he was- in retrospect -trying to tell them.

“I think they would have… found him by now.”

_“Do you think he would have been in more trouble do you think he would feel better do you think something else would have happened?”_

“No, no, Blurr. No, I don’t meant I think he would have been found. I think he would have been. Found.”

Blurr was silent. And then he spoke, in a very shaky voice. _“Bee? What do you mean what are you saying I don’t understand.”_

Bee closed his eyes, bracing for a reaction he would only hear. “I think, Blurr, they would have found his _body_ by now.”

_“…You think he would have-?”_

Both Bee’s thoughts, and Blurr’s sentence, were cut off by three firm knocks on the door. Bee lowered his phone, hiding it under his thighs as if he had something to hide on it, as he sat up and turned to face the door.

“What is it?”

The door opened, and Jazz appeared in the crack, grinning widely. “Hey honeybee. Dinners ready. Didn’t you hear me call?”

Bee smiled back. “No, sorry. I’ll be right down.”

Jazz shut the door, and after his steps hit the stairs, Bee pulled out his phone. 

_“Bee?”_

“Sorry,” he spoke quietly, but not quite as a whisper. “I have to go. And I’m sure you have other things to do as well. Talk later? Tomorrow, at the Academy?”

He could hear Blurr’s nervous tapping in the background. _“…Yeah, yeah sure yeah ok see you tomorrow.”_

Bee hung up, tucking his phone into his back pocket. He sighed to himself, rubbing his eyes as he swung his legs back over the side of the bed. He’d known Rod since what felt like forever, and he hadn’t noticed how dangerous his behaviour was. Had he been ignoring it? Had he just not noticed due to a slow and gradual increase? 

Whatever the case, he couldn’t think about those things at the dinner table. At least one of his parents would catch on, and with one of them being a talented interrogator he didn’t feel like giving away any hints of off behaviour for him to latch onto.

He scanned over some notes on his desk to fill his mind with anything else. Then, once he was ready, he opened the door, and headed downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's all for this year. See you guys next year, next chapter.


	11. Day 15, 2nd Month of Winter,2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while.

Deadlock’s house was a lot smaller than Optimus’. At first Rod had assumed it was an apartment, but Deadlock had shown him around after a few days, and proved him wrong.

It was four floors, and had a confusing layout that Rod still wasn’t quite used to. There were two bedrooms on the top floor, Deadlock’s and Gasket’s. Then there was what Rod assumed was meant to be a study or a third bedroom, and the bathroom. Then there was the kitchen and what was probably a dining room, and then a living room on the ground floor.

 

It was the 15th of the second month of Winter. Ten days since Rod ran away. He hadn’t been keeping up with anything- hadn’t even touched his phone since he got here. But he knew that if his father had put out a missing persons report for him, he’d have beat the record by now.

He probably had, thinking about it.  Rod pulled a grimace. He’d certainly picked a bad time to go off the map. The academy didn’t let out for another five days, and The Shielding was in ten. Rod wondered for a moment if Optimus had thought about presents this year.

Then he remembered how furious Elita would be when she found out, and rolled over on the mattress.

He didn’t really want to get out of bed. Deadlock had skittered off before the sun was up and he could hear Gasket tinkering away a floor down. The clock on the wall read that it was past eleven, so he knew he really should get up.

But the bed was so warm and cosy. Rod wrapped himself up in his blanket, feeling much like a burrito. He wiggled about in his self created prison for a bit, until there was a knock on the door.

“Gasket?”

The old man opened the door, a wide smile on his face, and a mug of tea in his hand. “Morning hot stuff. Got a little worried when you didn’t roll down for breakfast when you usually did. Bought you some tea.”

Rod gave him a shy smile. Gasket was friendly, and very sweet. He acted like how Rod thought dads were supposed to act. It was nice. “My favourite?”

Gasket chuckled, walking over to the mattress and kneeling down to put the mug on the floor next to him. “Peppermint herbal with a spoonful of clover honey.”

“You’re the best.” Rod smiled, untucking himself to roll over. He lifted the mug and took a sip, relishing in its taste. 

“Sausage, bacon, and scrambled eggs are waiting for you downstairs,” Gasket winked. “They’ll be cold by now but you can still reheat them.”

Rod hummed, placing the mug back down and flumping his body down onto the pillows. He blinked slowly, and Gasket ruffled his hair.

“Deadlock will be back soon, by the way. He texted me earlier saying he was just finishing up so give him an hour or two.”

He left, closing the door softly behind him. Rod stretched, sitting up against the wall and rubbing sleep from his eyes. He sipped slowly from his mug, relishing the taste. Dreams still rattled about in his brain, but they’d be gone soon enough. He’d have a shower later, after he’d eaten. 

The basic routine he’d adopted here was nice. Gasket and Deadlock both insisted that Rod didn’t have to do anything, so he got up later than he was used to. He cooked and cleaned up after himself sure, but it was nice to be able to sit in bed and read all day. Like a genuine vacation.

He stumbled downstairs to the kitchen, fixing himself a good sized portion and shoving it in the oven to reheat it. It’d take like, half an hour, but it was fine. He’d be careful getting it out though, so he didn’t burn his hand again.

Gasket was doing something upstairs, so Rod had the kitchen to himself. He emptied and refilled the dishwasher while he waited for his food to heat up. There were snacks, if he wanted them, but the promise of a large, meaty breakfast was too promising to override.

Deadlock came home about three hours later, and lazily nuzzled his face in Rod’s hair. Rod snorted, not looking up from the book he was readying as Deadlock rested his chin on the top of his head. “Rough day?”

“Mmm,” Deadlock swung off him, sitting down in a chair next to him and resting his head on the table. “You’d think people would lay off near Shielding time but no. Everything’s so messy, I’m busier than ever, and there’s no time to clean up. I suppose boss doesn’t want any slip ups and that makes sense but why’s it gotta include me?”

Rod ruffled his hair, silently adoring the rabbit fur like texture of it as Deadlock leaned into it. “Don’t ask me, I wouldn’t know.”

“Then I’ll ask you something you do know- how’re you feeling?”

Rod frowned. “Better. Honestly, genuinely better. I mean, I certainly couldn’t eat so much before. I feel more rested, I feel relaxed and I’m not so jumpy. I’m sure it won’t last forever, and I’m gonna have to contribute something at some point, but right now? I feel a lot better.”

Deadlock sat up and shuffled a little closer. “If you feel like you can talk about it now, I think it’d be good to get it out. It’s been over a week now, I think it’d be good to get it out.”

Rod sighed, leaning back in the chair. He slipped a bookmark between the pass before shutting it, closing his eyes and listening to the vague sounds of Gasket upstairs. “I guess I just. Feel like I wasn’t safe. Optimus never hit me or anything, but he always acted like he wanted to. And I mean, I know I was a disappointment. I guess I just. Wanted him to stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like a failure,” Rod frowned. “Like I wasn’t a person, or like I was a really bad… puppet. I feel like he had this whole plan set out for me and I just. Never managed to do it.”

Deadlock offered his hand, and Rod took it. He avoided looking into his eyes- not because he didn’t want to. But because it felt too hard to do and still be honest.

“You and Gasket don’t expect me to do anything, but you don’t not care when I do. Gasket is always really happy when I do the washing and stuff, and you like my cooking. You don’t make me do anything or expect me to do anything, but you like it when I do. It feels good, while when I was with Optimus’ I guess… parents just have different ideas of what you should be like, I guess.”

“I wouldn’t know, I don’t remember mine.” Deadlock smiled, jokingly. “But I gotta say, he put a lot of pressure on you, the politics certainly didn’t help.”

Rod stuck his tongue out. “Don’t I know it. Do you think it’ll ever be better?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he grinned wider. “I never lived in one.”

“A political climate?”

“Yep.”

“You are a Decepticon, Deadlock.”

He nodded as if some wizened old sage, then poked Rod on the tip of his nose. “Never been proved in court.”

Rod snorted, slapping his hand away. “Shut up. Have you talked to Starscream lately?”

“The longer time passes without me having to talk to him the better, but yes, I have.”

“Has he said anything?”

Deadlock shrugged. “Nothing you need to worry about, really. He mentioned that some people asked about you, but no more than the other suspects. None officially either.”

Rod sighed, pulling his face back into a grimace. “Is it weird I wish they were looking harder for me?”

“Is it normal to wish for some conformation that they care?”

He nodded after a small pause. “Do you know if my mum’s home yet?”

Deadlock shrugged. “Not my division. I’ve heard rumours that she’s home and incredibly not happy.”

Rod huffed. Somehow it would have been easier if it was obvious that they cared, or didn’t. Not sending such weird signals of caring not caring, wanting him but wanting someone better. It just left him feeling rough and uncomfortable. He groaned, and Deadlock smiled reassuringly at him.

“Hey, don’t worry too much about it. I just wanted to see if I could help, not make you dwell on it.”

“You could be a family therapist,” Rod gave a bark of a laugh. “Primus knows that we need it.”

“We all need it. I need it. It’s just a matter of helping one another.” Deadlock shrugged. “That’s the basis of the Cons anyway. Not that it’s gone that way though, I can count on one hand how many groups there are of Cons who support one another.”

Rod raised an eyebrow in curiosity. Deadlock ran his hand through his hair, and chewed on the skin of his thumb.

“Uh, let’s see… not counting family relationships, there’s the Constructicons… uh, there’s that one group we only contact if we need impossible work done, there’s… shit, I really can’t think of any right now. Uh, there’s the Triple Changers, the Firecons, Thunderhoof’s gang… that’s all I can think of.”

Rod whistled, leaning in. “That’s a surprising amount of people you know though.”

“Ha! The teams aren’t big though.”

“I would have thought they would be of five or more?”

Deadlock snorted. “Nah, I mean, they tend to be, but the Triple Changers are like, a team of three. I guess the biggest group is those misfits that Motormaster calls in when he needs something impossible done.”

“What classifies as ‘impossible’?”

Deadlock grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. “Well, how do you think we got into Iacon? Those guys literally can do anything. Motormaster won’t say who they are but I’m pretty sure it’s one of his kids.”

Rod tilted his head. “Is it Dragstrip?”

“Nah, I race with her a lot, and she never has a team with her. But she once told me about an older brother, who I don’t know and I’ve never heard of.”

“You don’t know everyone though.”

“No, but I know everyone who’s Motormaster’s kid, except this elusive older brother.” Deadlock shrugged. “And if he’s older than her, he’s older than me, which means I’ll probably never run into him.”

“Why would being older than you make it less likely?”

“Different jobs mostly.”

Rod hummed, and Deadlock poked him on the nose. “Regardless of all that, I only know about their team by hearsay. And… what were we talking about?”

“Supporting one another.”

“Right. And I think that’s the biggest group. But again, hearsay. And who knows if they actually support and help one another.”

There was a knock on the open door, and they both turned to see Gasket, standing with an apologetic look on his face and a phone in his hand.

“Turmoil’s on the line. He needs you back.”

Deadlock gave a melodramatic groan, throwing his hands into the air. “This is exactly what I mean. No rest for the wicked, I just finished up and now I’m needed right back in there. Ungrateful, is what it is.”

Rod snorted, resting his chin on his hand. “I’ll be here when you get back. That’s gotta count for something right?”

“One of the things that keeps me coming home,” Deadlock gave him a soft smile. “Sorry our conversation got cut short. Talk later, Hot Rod.”

Rod waved as Deadlock left the room, taking the phone from Gasket’s hand. Cut short or not, it had been a nice chat. But his book was waiting for him, and Rod was excited to finish it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck regular updates yall are getting your hot garbage served to you as soon as i finish writing it


	12. Day 16, 2nd Month of Winter 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all coming together now.

“This is the worst.”

Usually, when Skywarp said something in a petulant and whiny tone, it was exaggerated or just plain out wrong. But both Thundercracker and Starscream had to agree this time.

“If we hadn’t seen Rod the first five days, what makes them think we’d seen him since?” Thundercracker huffed, slamming his face down into Starscream’s mattress. “No we haven’t seen Decepticon activity, yes we’re sure, no we haven't seen Rodimus, yes we’re sure. No we don’t know anything, please get the lights out of my eyes, I want to go home.”

Skywarp whined, rolling across the bed until he was tucked up against Thundercracker’s side. 

“I bet no one gets it as hard as we do,” he complained. “Why are we the suspects here?”

“You’re not, I am.” Starscream kicked against the floor, sending his desk chair spinning. “They think I did something, and they think Megatron’s in charge still despite all the investigations giving ‘em shit, so they think I must know something.”

Thundercracker snorted. “Well, he is.”

Starscream waved his hand dismissively. “But they don’t know that. Hell, I barely know it and I’m his… whatever I am.”

“Protege?” 

“Implies I’m not related to him.”

“You’re not.”

“Biologically maybe. But legally they think I’m biologically related to him. He’s down as my birth father on my birth certificate, that’s for sure.”

Skywarp looked up, leaning his chin on his hands. “I’ve been meaning to ask actually- do you know who is?”

Starscream snorted. “No. I think Megatron does but evidently he hates the guy as much as he hates me so he wouldn’t tell me even at gunpoint.”

Skywarp shrugged, and Starscream groaned dramatically. “I mean, it’s not like he tells me anything else either. Did you know he had a meeting the other night and didn’t tell me? Does he want me involved in this or not?”

“Maybe he wants you to know about it, but not be involved?”

“The pit he does. Why even call me ‘second-in-command’ if he didn’t want his ‘empire’ continued one way or another?”

He slumped in his chair, rubbing his face with one hand, hissing though his teeth. Eventually, he leaned forwards, and carefully removed his red lenses, blinking blue eyes afterwards. “I hate him, you know? I really do. Why can’t he be upfront and blunt about what he wants? He’s so vague and uncaring, and I know he’s not actually my dad but…”

Thundercracker pat the mattress next to him where Skywarp wasn’t. Starscream stared for a moment, before his shoulders fell, and he reluctantly went to collapse into the bed next to his two best friends.

“I mean, I have a theory? On who the dad is I mean. I asked mum once- when I was visiting her in jail. She didn’t tell me, but she was never a woman for being upfront herself, or so Megatron says. She did laugh and tell me that I was certainly hers, but. Well. She is how she is I suppose. And I don’t speak Quintesson.”

“So what do you think?”

Starscream tapped his face. “Eyes. A lot of science words are based off Quintesson so I don’t speak it but I know maybe like, three words. And I think she said something about my eyes.”

Thundercracker gave him a curious look. “You’re an environmental studies scientist, why do you know words like’ eyes’?”

He glared back at him. “Many plant life and species aren’t exactly named by anything other than the description, you know. Turbofoxes, for example; ’Vulpes ieiunium’ just means ‘fast fox’. It makes perfect sense for me to know completely random words.”

“That’s fair. So any idea who your eyes match?”

“Unfortunately.” Starscream snorted. “I’m honestly not sure who it’d be worse for- Megatron or-!”

A knock at the door interrupted him, and he gave a melodramatic groan. “Whaaaaaaat?”

His father opened the door, a look of utter distain on his face. “Starscream, you have visitors. I am loathe to let them in without a warrant but I’m afraid anymore objections on my part would be put down as an obstruction of justice.”

“Haven’t they made enough arrests already?” He whined in response. “Seriously, I saw it on the news. There’s been like, fifty arrests.”

“They’re not here to arrest you, you melodramatic little shit,” Megatron rolled his eyes, through his face betrayed his good humour. “They have more questions or something. I’m too old for this nonsense so I wasn’t listening.”

“Yeah, you’re ancient,” Starscream grinned, dodging the pillow Megatron grabbed from nearby and threw at him. “Positively decrepit. Too old to rule your metal empire, and so I, Starscream, shall-!”

It was Thundercracker who smacked him in the face with a pillow, this time. Starscream snorted, conceding his defeat.

“Alright fine. Give me a minute to get ready then send them up or whatever.” He grumbled, rolling towards the edge of his bed.

“That won’t be necessary.” A voice, belonging to someone Starscream didn’t recognise, called out as they barged in. He swore, rolling off the bed and crawling to his desk to hurriedly put in his coloured contacts while Warp and TC stood between the man and him.

“Haven’t you heard of politeness?” He snapped, not daring to turn until he was sure the contacts were in place. “What if I wasn’t wearing clothes? What if my friends weren’t wearing clothes?”

The man rolled his eyes with a derisive snort. “Then I’m sure your father would have said something. It’s despicable I have to get involved at all, honestly. This… interrogation work is so below me.”

Starscream bit down a growl. “Well I’ve given my statement five times now. I don’t know what you could possibly want from me, but at this point you’re not gonna get any details I ‘mysteriously left out’ or whatever you think is gonna happen.”

The man laughed, and Starscream blinked his contacts into place.

“ _Oh_ , you think I’m here about Rodimus. Oh absolutely not, no. No I’m here for something far more important.”

Starscream stood up, and turned to his friends. They shrugged, just as confused. The man smiled, and he resisted the urge to grimace in return at the gross feeling it created.

“My name is Star Sabre,” he grinned wide. “And I’m here to talk about Optimus Prime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let god be my witness i was trying to edit this and i couldn't read a word so lets hope its fine

**Author's Note:**

> (This stuff is a lot to write and I don't expect anyone to but if you feel like donating...  
> https://www.paypal.me/Frostyvossie/5  
> It'd be very appreciated.)


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